How to get rid of a Habit
by Memphis Jin
Summary: Marriage, children, duties, a well-paid job and a fortune in his vault. All Harry ever wanted achieved... but one habit makes his life less enjoyable. Luckily, Ginny knows how to free him from this habit.


He let himself sink into the great cushions like an old guy. Ginny would be coming home from one of her quidditch trainings with the team, soon. Teddy slept and James Sirius Potter quietly snored next to him. Harry held a bottle of beer in his hand, normal one you could buy at a muggle store. He'd taken up the habit of drinking before noon, even. It wondered him that this was his first one that day, as it already was past nine pm.

A snort, a drink and a twenty-six year-old staring into nothingness as he drunk himself to the point where Ginny's shouts became manly moaning. Moaning Man, Harry laughed hysterically at his own bad joke and Ginevra slapped him once.

Fuck, this was horrific.

It didn't matter, though. It wasn't the first time and would not be the last one. With as much money as he made and bunkered in his vault, Harry may as well was able drinking the finest firewhiskey there was galleon-wise.

He wasn't a bad dad, really. Alcohol just made him more giggly than usual and gave him the back up in order to prevent him from running away. It was the Dursleys all over again. Well, he had more than enough to eat and wasn't locked up in a cupboard under the freaking stairs, Harry thought, but the principle seemed the same.

He was hiding in his own house, pretending he wasn't there. Sometimes Harry found himself staring in fright at his godson. Teddy was nine now. Eight years since he vanquished that snake-faced bastard for good. Eight years since he felt like a man in his late forties.

He was wasting his life for reproduction.

Ginny had wanted marriage so badly that Harry just had time to poop until he stood in front of that blasted priest, taking her as his wife.

Their child, James Sirius, they conceived through alcohol. Everything nowadays was a result of alcohol, really. As the head of an Auror squad, you could think there was more to do after a fucking war than to sit back and watch your inferiors arrest Death Eaters who were mentally unstable, but apparently, it _was_ the only thing he ever had to do. Sometimes he even had to sign a report. Wow. Harry Potter, you made it!

Ironically, Ron and Hermione found him to be more himself being drunk than clean and they didn't smell his breath, although it had to be fucking obvious beer breath.

When he wasn't drunk, he was Snape. Harry did not mind being Snape but everyone but him did, so he kept drinking and wouldn't deny a cigarette once in a while.

"What is going on with you, Harry?!" Ginny shouted at her husband. Harry grinned, taking a sip of beer... what else...

"What is going on with _me_? Well, I dunno... really... me pretending not to be 'ere. Like ev'ry day. Me drinking a bottle or two or ten or nineteen. Nuthin' wrong 'ere!"

She shook in rage, grabbed the bottle right out of his hand and crashed it onto his head.

Harry groaned in pain and flickers of Aunt Petunia swinging the frying pan at him when he didn't correctly cook their meals flashed into his mind. Unconsciously, he held up both hands in defence and waited for the next blast which didn't come.

"I hate you, Harry Potter, you hear? I HATE YOU!" Since when did Vernon sound like a woman?

More memories from his childhood – Ripper hunted him up the tree where he sat for about five hours till Aunt Marge decided to call her dog. Dudley crushed his fingers between the door frame and Uncle Vernon hit him lightly with his new car.

 _"_ _That is wonderful vehicle, indeed. Not even a scratch in the varnish!"_

Voices echoed in Harry's head. These were voices from a time when he wasn't Harry, but Freak or Boy.

 _"_ _You ungrateful brat! We were so kind to take you into our beloved home and you dare to destroy our property!"_

 _"_ _You should have died with your whore of a mum and your drunk-driving father!"_

 _"_ _Freakish, that's what you are!"_

He ran out into the rain, not wondering why he was this fast or why his surroundings spun or why he could have run outside when most of the time his cupboard was locked up.

Ginny stood next to the hospital bed. Harry was having an extreme alcohol withdrawal plus head trauma due to an accident and his fucking wife didn't have the slightest bit of decency to look remorseful or worried.

A glimpse of something drilled forward. Harry held his breath. In that moment he knew that Ginevra Weasley, his wife, had hit him with a beer bottle. It wasn't an accident like the healers had said.

Ginny smiled, hexed him immobile and searched in her purse for something.

"Now, my dearest husband is the moment when I'm going to free you from your bad drinking habits."

She showed him the shiny butcher's knife.

And Harry had a panicky attack, screaming and pleading.


End file.
